


Pencil Lead and Reptilian Idioms

by MeetTheRoyalMess



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: (kinda), Awkward first meeting, Bisexual Disaster Jeremy Heere, Christmas Fluff, Embarrassment, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, M/M, if you get second hand embarrassment easily I'm sorry, toy store worker! Michael Mell, writer! Jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetTheRoyalMess/pseuds/MeetTheRoyalMess
Summary: "Just go talk to him!""Nope. No way. Can't do that.""Why not?""You know why. I'm an embarrassment to myself."~In which, Jeremy is a bisexual disaster who gets dragged to a Christmas market by Christine. When he gets there, he meets someone new and chaos ensues.
Relationships: (platonic), Christine Canigula & Jeremy Heere, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Pencil Lead and Reptilian Idioms

**Author's Note:**

> Short and fluffy. Literally never go this route with any of my stuff so I hope my rustiness in this area doesn't show too much!

_ The vast expanse of the universe inhales and the wind exhales in whispers. It voices promises of carrying him far, far away until the edges of the horizon are smudges on an empty sky and the cool colors of the cosmos thaw into fiery clutches of the stars. Reminiscing only brings him closer into the arms of— God I can’t write anymore it’s too fucking cold. _

Jeremy mutters a curse. Shoving his notepad and pencil into his jacket pocket and stuffing his hands back into his gloves. The taunt chapped skin stretching over his knuckles appreciates the tingling warmth that gathers in his fingertips. So much for getting inspiration from the bustling mill of the market.

Most of the people are bundled in fashionable neutrals with little more than wind bitten cheeks peeking from the carefully sculpted array of winter wear. The muted hues of the crowd make the shock of sparkling red with its complementary green all the more jarring to Jeremy. It’s very easy to become overwhelmed with all the different stimuli attacking his senses.

“Uh, Christine,” Jeremy licks his peeling lips. “Did you forget to tell that this is a Christmas market or…?”

Christine twirls to face him, dark hair bouncing from beneath her white beanie. Her eyes are crinkling and sparkling with unrestrained mirth as a corner of her lips quirk up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and nudges her with his shoulder playfully. “You mean to tell me that you purposefully brought me—of all people—to a place that is not only outdoors, but Christmas themed?”

“Is there a problem with it?”

“I’m  _ Jewish _ .”

Christine giggles. She curls her reddened fingers around his coat sleeve and gave a childish tug. “Come ooooon! We both know you needed to get out of that apartment and into the real world for a change. You can’t spend all your time in that head of yours.”

Jeremy wishes she would stop being right.

“You’ve been struggling with writer’s block forever now. I think it’s because you haven’t really talked to many people except for me and your roommate—what was his name? Rich! —Anyways, if you spend time with other people you’ll be able to expand your world! Then do the same for your characters. I’ve always thought your writing was better after you met a new person.”

Jeremy gives a breathless laugh. “Christine, I’m already here. You don’t have to convince me anymore.” He steps forward to examine an elaborately decorated booth, burying his frigid nose into his scarf.

“Good!” Christine beams.

Jeremy smiles softly as fondness tickles his heart. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without Christine. He figures he probably would have drowned in a sea of pizza boxes with a body drenched in the aroma of old grease and a hint of body odor. He also wouldn’t get her kick ass massages and Jeremy knows painfully well how desperately he needs those.

They weave through the stalls with only minor trouble. Jeremy lets the scent of cinnamon and peppermint wash into his lungs and fog his mind. The classic playlist of seasonal carols tinkle through the winter air and Jeremy finds himself softly humming along. Then the delicate sound of Christine quietly singing the opposite part reaches his ears.

Jeremy glances at her from the corner of his eye. She’s cradling a scented candle, lips subtly moving along with the lyrics. The next thing Jeremy knows, his voice is being pulled from his mouth, projecting more than he had previously. Christine’s gaze darts to him then increases her volume as well.

Jeremy grins, an airy giddiness rising in his chest. _Challenge_ _accepted, Christine._

Within seconds, both of them are “singing” along at the tops of their voices and continue to do so for the rest of the final chorus. They hold onto their final notes before dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Maybe the Christmas market wasn’t such a bad idea.

Jeremy’s chuckles die down and he prepares to move on to the next stall (better not overstay their welcome after that little outburst). But when he rotates to march on, he’s met with a set of lively—pretty, pretty,  _ pretty _ —brown eyes.

Jeremy really hopes the noise ringing in his brain doesn’t exit his mouth.

His fingers begin to twitch in his gloves, gravitating towards the pocketed pencil and pad. His head is filling with words and erasing them just as rapidly. It’s inspiring and breathtaking and he  _ needs _ to write. If he doesn’t, then this moment will pass and he will never be able to capture it again.

Jeremy jostles the objects from his pockets, gloves briefly getting stuck before he’s finally able to pull them free. He wraps his bulky hand around the miniature pencil as best as he can and puts the lead to paper. And the sentences and jargon flow from him like a fresh spring, pouring out onto the page until it is overflown with scribbles.

He lets out a breath and thrusts the pencil and paper back to their cozy spot within his jacket. His hand cramps and his heart thumps but he feels his numb muscles curl into a breath of a smile.

“Alright it’s time to—I know that face. Who is it?” Christine cranes her neck to peek over the shelves. “Oooooh. Yeah, he’s definitely your type. He’s got a name tag so he’s working but I can’t read it from here.”

Jeremy grabs her sleeve and ducks below the shelves to her level. “Oh god, Chris. We have to get out of here.”

“What? Why? Just go talk to him!”

Jeremy clenches his eyes closed. The image of him keeps dancing behind his eyelids; the image of deep eyes behind thick rimmed glasses, stray dark strands brushing a tan forehead, and the tiniest hint of a smile curling at lips.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

“Nope,” Jeremy says vehemently. “No way. Can’t do that.”

Christine snatches her arm away from him and crosses it with her other over her chest. “Why not?”

“You  _ know _ why. I’m an embarrassment to myself.”

“You—" Christine pokes his shoulder “—are being ridiculous. You’re just fine!”

No, he really isn’t. Jeremy doesn’t need anyone else to embarrass him in front of beautiful people because he does it plenty all on his own. It’s irrefutable.

Grass is green, pencils have lead, the spine is the support system of the human body, and Jeremy Heere humiliates himself in front of attractive people. All of these things are plain facts and cannot be denied no matter how much testing is done.

“Chris…”

A hand falls on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I believe in you.” Christine gives a smile that heats the Earth’s core. “Now go get him!”

She pushes him lightly and shoos him off with a flick of her wrists.

And that is how Jeremy finds himself in front of one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen in his life, only armed with an awkward smile and a plethora of gay panic. Luckily, Lovely-Worker-Man doesn’t take notice and simply offers a returning smile.

“Welcome! How can I help you?”

Oh no. Oh  _ no _ , he has a nice voice. And suddenly Jeremy doesn’t have one at all.

The man raises a brow and leans an elbow on the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

_ Fucking breathe, Jeremy. Jesus. _

“Uh,” his voice cracks— _of_ _course_ his voice cracks. “Not really.”

The worker’s lips quirk up and he huffs a semblance of a chuckle. “You sure?”

Jeremy manages a nod and a shaky smile.

The worker hums and gives him a small once over. Then a glimmer of excitement appears behind his glasses lenses. “Bro, I love your scarf!”

Jeremy’s finger tips automatically grasp the offending item and he glances down. He knows  _ exactly _ what he’s wearing but he just has to check and make sure. It’s bright yellow—an obnoxious color really—with the ends of it knitted darker to create a Pac-man head. Christine had given it to him as a Hanukkah present several years ago, despite his protests. Now the fabric is worn and not nearly as bright as it once had been but even with the frays, it’s still his favorite thing to wear in the winter.

Jeremy smiles softly.

“Thank you. Someone…very special made it for me.”

He hears a small cooing whimper from somewhere behind him. He ignores it.

The other man beams. “Well then that makes it even better!”

Jeremy’s heart trips on itself as he chuckles lightly. He almost thanks the worker again but decides to reign that in. However, he does end up blurting out, “I’m Jeremy!” so loudly it makes the worker (and Christine, if the shadow in the corner of his eye is anything to go by) flinch and he thrusts his hand out to the worker. He isn’t sure he took the better route.

However, when he’s greeted with a roguish grin and a warm pressed to his gloved one, he  _ knows _ he choose the right path. (Bless all the choose your own adventure games he played in preparation for this moment. Time well spent.)

“Hiya, Jeremy. The name’s Michael.”

“Nice.”

“So,” Michael drawls, loosening his grip on Jeremy’s hand. “What brings you here on this fine day? Can I do anything for you?”

In that moment, a sharp iciness encases his internal organs and his veins erupt into flames. Jeremy flounders for any sort of response but his coherency evades him at every grasp. He tries to glance at Christine but her playful expression tells him all he needs to know. He’s on his own with this one, unfortunately.

Two sets of eyes are staring, imploring, and—god, he’s been silent for too long. He has to say something,  _ anything damnit _ .

“We’re having a baby!”

Well shit _. _

Michael’s smile falters ever so slightly as his pretty eyes dart to Christine (who should really stop hiding now— _ please _ ) and he jerks his hand back. “Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “That’s awesome! Congrats on the future tiny human!”

Fucking  _ shit _ .

Unfinished words and fractured sentences spill from his lips in crumpled excuses. “W-wait! I-I didn’t—I didn’t mean—t-that w-wasn’t me!”

Michael’s brows knit together as his eyes flit over to Christine again, whom he can  _ feel _ a threatening aura from, even at a distance.

Jeremy emits a sound that’s akin to a goose letting out its dying breathes. “Well I-I mean that  _ was  _ me but not in the way you’re thinking—oh my god, I need to stop now.”

Michael nods with a grimacing smile taunt on his lips.

Then there’s a pair of arms folded on the counter and a familiar head of dark hair entering his line of sight. “Hello!” Christine says, shortly. Oh shit, he’s done it now. “My name’s Christine! I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and I would like to clarify that  _ we _ —” she gestures to herself and Jeremy “—are not having a child. In fact, I’m not even pregnant, nor do I ever plan on being pregnant. I might want kids but I really don’t—that’s not the point. Anyways. This one—” She jerks Jeremy down to her level by the back of his jacket without breaking eye contact “—just has the worst panic mode ever. Sorry about that!”

Christine is gone as quickly as the breeze that brought her and Jeremy teeters over with the loss of his support system. Jeremy’s face is crimson, he’s sure. His cheeks feel like they’ve been pressing against hot coals for too long, the heat seeping into every pore of his face and drawing all his blood there.

He peers over the counter to Michael’s face as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. The next thing Jeremy knows, the worker is doubled over with his forehead pressed against the wooden counter and shoulders shaking. Jeremy scrambles up with an apology on the tip of his tongue when Michael’s snickers reach his ears.

“H-hey! It’s not funny,” Jeremy says with a quaver in his voice.

Michael is laughing openly now; full-bellied, roaring laughs that ring through the air like church bells on a crisp Sunday morning. (Jeremy would  _ gladly  _ worship whatever deity allowed that wonderful sound to bless his ear drums.)

“Oh-oh my god,” Michael gasps before dissolving right back into his sniggering fit. “I’m sorry for laughing at you but this is the funniest shit that has ever happened to me.”

Jeremy thinks he’s going to explode with the powdered embarrassment in his heart igniting from Michael’s uproarious cackles.

“Sorry…” Jeremy gives a weak chuckle. He forces his legs to remain rooted in his spot even though they are spring loaded and ready to sprint away at any given moment.

Michael straightens with a  _ whoo  _ and blinding grin. “Don’t be! I haven’t laughed that hard in a long while. Thanks for that, Jeremy.”

“Ahaha…You’re welcome?”

Somehow, Michael’s smile grows wider. Jeremy’s heart thumps against his ribcage rebelliously and Jeremy decides that he’s put himself through enough today.

“Well!” His voice cracks  _ again _ . “Uh, I’ve got to be going now so. Um. B-bye!”

Right before Jeremy bounds away like a frightened rabbit, a warm hand wraps around his elbow. “Hang on.”

Jeremy whips to face Michael. He’s stretched over the counter so far that Jeremy’s sure his feet are suspended off the ground a few inches. When his gaze catches Jeremy’s drop to his hand, Michael drops it guiltily and settles back behind the counter. “Uh, I think we should at least be friends or something after all that. You seem really fun and stuff so…”

Jeremy blinks. Michael’s face still has the traces of mirth at the corners of his eyes and his lips curl into such an earnest smile it’s a miracle Jeremy doesn’t swoon on his feet.

“Unless you don’t—”

“No!” Jeremy quickly amends. “No, I’d like to, uh, be friends. With you. Please.”

Michael brightens, producing a pen from under the counter. “Sweet!”

He plucks a business card from the plastic holder and scribbles down on the back of it. Clicking the pen shut, he holds the card out with two fingers. “Here’s my number! Maybe when we hang out next time, you can show me what you wrote about me in that little book of yours, yeah?”

Jeremy gingerly takes the card and stares at the looping numbers on it.  _ Next time _ … A smile creeps onto his face before the words finally sunk in.

Jeremy sputters, “Wait, w-what?”

Michael’s melodic laughter echoes through his empty head. “I’ll see you later, Jeremy.”

Jeremy squawks and fumbles for a farewell. “Y-yeah! A-after a while, crocodile!”

Jeremy doesn’t move.

Neither does Michael.

Michael raises a brow and a corner of his mouth curves up more than the other. “So, are you gonna—?”

“Yup!”

Jeremy’s legs are cut loose and he bounds away as quickly as his trembling legs could carry him. He runs to Christine, who’s still shopping a few stalls down the same row. She appraises him quickly before giggling.

“So how’d it go?” she sing-songs.

“I totally called the hottest person I’ve ever seen a crocodile then ran away with his number and I have  _ so many regrets _ .”

Jeremy really hopes that Michael can’t hear Christine laughing at him but knowing his luck, he absolutely did. But Jeremy can’t bring himself to be that worried about it.

At the very least, this would give him an interesting experience to write about. However, Jeremy could also gain a very amazing person to have all sorts of new (though hopefully much less embarrassing) experiences with.

And as he and Christine walk away from the marketplace, covered in red glitter and saturated in festive scents, Jeremy really begins to hope that it’s the latter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this rather self-indulgent piece!  
>   
> Hope you all have absolutely lovely days/nights <3


End file.
